The Beginning Adventure of Chuck and Cas
by authoressnebula
Summary: Post 4x22: "So...what's the plan?"


_A/N: This is all the fault of my friends, who after the finale fell in love with the idea of Castiel and Chuck heading out as partners to save the world. What resulted was crack._

* * *

"So...what's the plan?" Chuck asked as the roaring got louder. As dead to the world as his neighbor was, there was no _way_ Mrs. Somerlade could sleep through this.

Or, you know, not go blind, and woah, he needed shades for this. It hadn't gotten this loud or this bright before with Lilith. And this was Castiel, for god's sakes, an angel of the Lord who had done some pretty awesome things. "And why's the archangel here anyway?" he continued. "Why are _you_ here?"

Castiel glanced at him from the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the window. "Because I realized that Dean was right."

"About...?" Last Chuck had written of the angel, Dean was supposed to have waited in the "green room", talked with Zachariah and Castiel, then have been taken back to earth as a sad but resigned soldier to kill Lucifer.

Not show up at Chuck's looking pissed, worried, but _hopeful,_ and asking Chuck where the hell Sam was. 'Not in the story' didn't even begin to cover it.

Castiel didn't answer him, mainly because Chuck's window decided to blow itself in at that moment. Chuck ducked away from the shattering glass, scrambling to get somewhere safe. He was shoved forward and lost his footing and wound up underneath the table. "Stay there!" Castiel shouted, and a tan coat suddenly stepped in front of Chuck to defend him. Chuck edged out enough to see what was going on without getting caught in the line of fire. He wasn't stupid. Not that stupid, yet.

A second later and Castiel was turning towards the window, looking more firm and resolute than Chuck had ever seen him, even in his dreams. "I did what I had to, brother," he said, his voice deep. A pause, and..._there_. Chuck could barely hear the high pitched whistle, but even as he strained, his ears promptly cursed him out and forced him to cover them with his hands.

Archangels weren't meant for listening to. He'd make sure to include that in the next book of his, or maybe put it in his blog.

That was _if_ there was another book or blog entry.

"There is a right and a wrong," Castiel said suddenly, his voice loud, and Chuck winced and tried to cover his ears a little more. He watched as the last glass from his cupboard fell and hit the ground, and Chuck couldn't hear it shatter. Yet he could still hear Castiel as if Chuck's ears were uncovered.

"We were put here on this earth to watch out for our Father's greatest creations, and yet we are willing to let them die for a _schedule._ Willing to take two heroes, warriors, _brothers_, and rip them apart and sacrifice them both." Castiel drew himself even more than Chuck thought was humanly possible (obviously not angely possible, and great, end of the world and he couldn't spell anymore, and Chuck hadn't wanted to go without his grammar intact). "I am not willing to do this, any of this. Nor am I willing to call my dispersal of Zachariah a crime. Holding Dean Winchester against his will as he attempted to reach his brother in faith and love, that is a crime-"

The high pitched whistle grew infinitely louder, and Chuck was fairly certain there was blood coming out from his ears. Which probably meant his brains were oozing out of his ears so hey, he was going to die, but they would just revive him, right? Because he'd been stupid enough to get killed by the biggest flashlight in all of history. And that was stupid, really, since the archangel was supposed to protect Chuck and speaking of, _wait_ a minute...

"Hey!" he shouted, scooting back from underneath the table. The light felt bright hot, and things were still shattering around him as the earthquake continued, and the angel of the Lord that was on his side was almost _glaring_ at him, and Chuck was climbing out from the relative safe area. In his _robe._

Writing too many of those stupid books with the Winchesters as his characters had made him way too courageous for his own damn good.

"Hey!" he called again. A hand on his arm began to pull him back, which he shrugged off with aloof and stepped forward. Two seconds later he turned to Castiel and cringed. "Uh, sorry, I was just, uh. In the moment."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. The both of them had hung around the Winchesters for way too long. "Making it up as you go," Castiel said.

Yeah. Seemed like it was the cool thing to do now. "Something like that," Chuck said with a grimace. Then it was just a simple matter of turning from Castiel back to the window, and Chuck was suddenly very grateful that he couldn't see the archangel. Probably massively scary in real life. "Uh, hey, aren't you supposed to be protecting me? And you're kind of not doing a very good job of it."

He didn't even give the whistling a chance to get started. "I mean, Castiel? He's one of the good guys, and if he tried to help the world not end? I'm okay with that. Seriously, you want the world to end, you go do it. Leave us out of it. And the Winchesters," he added after a moment. "Leave them alone, too." A quick glance saw Castiel nodding in agreement and possibly even approval.

Emboldened (but not a lot because his knees still felt a little shaky) he turned back to the white light. If he ever got the chance to see anything else again in his life, Chuck was fairly certain the brightness was going to be permanently seared into his retinas. "So if you want me to be safe to record the glory of the angels and whatever else happens, you need me alive," he stated firmly. "And I need this angel. The one right here. And the Winchesters, more than likely, considering the rate my life's been going lately. And since you're kind of scaring the hell out of me, there's a high chance for a heart attack if you stay which would lead to me dying so...shoo," he finished, waving his hand slightly.

The whistling got louder. "Um, please?" Chuck pleaded nervously, his earlier bravado immediately gone.

A moment later, the light dissolved into nothing. Chuck shut his eyes tight at the sudden darkness, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ah, god," he muttered. He blinked his eyes open wide and tried to look around. There was an echo of white in his vision, just like he'd thought.

"That was...brave."

Chuck shook his head and turned to Castiel. The angel had blood trailing from his own ears, and his hands looked slightly sliced, presumably when he'd held the archangel off for those few moments. Chuck winced at the thought of what Castiel would've looked like if Chuck hadn't done something.

"Stupid, actually," Chuck admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "What did he, um, it say before it left?"

Castiel's eyes slid shut in something that resembled sorrow. "_They_ left because it happened. Lucifer has been released."

Chuck stared at Castiel. "But...but you showed up with Dean! And Dean wasn't angry at Sam, he-"

"He realized just how much he loved his brother," Castiel said softly. "Enough to gladly accept the pain, the misery of life. Even all that he endured in Hell, even Sam as he is."

"Was," Chuck corrected, already searching for his phone. Castiel wouldn't care if he ordered twenty girls for the night, would he? He probably would; Chuck would only order ten, then. Maybe ask Castiel if he wanted to find out what being human was best for before the world blew up in flames.

"Is," Castiel corrected further, gazing at Chuck once more. "Sam is still alive."

Chuck abandoned the search for the phone, frowning at Castiel. "But that's not how it's supposed to go. Sam's main purpose in the grand scheme is to open the last seal. After that, he dies when Lucifer rises."

Castiel tilted his head. "You have forgotten Dean. Dean was there this time. The archangels said that it was done, Lucifer had risen, and the Winchesters were already fleeing."

Plural. Which meant...which meant they were alive. Which meant the world had half of a chance.

Chuck met Castiel's gaze squarely, feeling a small grin despite everything. "Then everything's being rewritten. If Sam survived, then Dean won't-"

"Yes," Castiel said, and the angel actually smiled. "Exactly. Even though the seal is broken, not everything is lost."

"I'll drink to that," Chuck said, and he was searching around the kitchen for a glass to do just that before he realized they were all broken. His remaining whiskey was probably shattered too, then. Damn.

A rumble began to start, and Chuck buried his fingers into his scalp. "C'mon, go away already!" he yelled.

Castiel instantly jerked his head towards Chuck's door. "It's not the archangels," he said. Three steps brought him to Chuck's side, his hand on Chuck's arm. "It's still not safe for you; you're a prophet. You could become a key instrument to Lucifer, should he ever take you."

That sounded as much fun as the worst thing Chuck could imagine, and that was downright scary given his imagination. "But where am I supposed to go then?" Chuck managed to ask. "It's not like I have a place to hide that's safe from the Head Honcho of Hell!"

"I do," Castiel promised. "For now. Take what you need to continue your writing."

Chuck nodded and darted for his laptop, which besides a few shards of glass scattered across the top was still okay. He automatically reached for the script for _Lucifer Rising_, then stopped. It wasn't going to be any use to history now, and if the Winchesters ever read how it was supposed to have gone...

No. He didn't need it. The world didn't need it. The world needed heroes that were alive, that hurried to save the other no matter what had happened between them.

That's what the Winchesters were for.

With the laptop clutched to his chest, Chuck nodded to Castiel. "I'm ready," he said. The rumbling intensified, and through the broken window, Chuck could make out purple, bright lightening all over the sky.

Castiel reached for Chuck's forehead just as Chuck grasped Castiel's shoulder. Castiel paused and frowned slightly at him. "Don't send me off somewhere without you," Chuck insisted, before he offered his best coaxing grin and added, "Besides, so long as you're with me, you're safe too, right? So we'll have to partner up for a little bit."

Castiel's frown eased away. "Partners," he said, as if trying the word out. A moment later, his hand moved from Chuck's forehead to his shoulder.

Even as his house disappeared from around him, Chuck was already wondering how he'd fit this into the new book. He was going to take up a lot of it, and it wasn't really supposed to be his story. It was the Gospel of the Winchesters, not the Glorified Doings of the Prophet Chuck.

...Maybe a spin-off series; he could do that, record what happened to him. That would work. 'The Adventures of Chuck and Cas.' Sounded like a really bad adventure flick.

He'd think of something. Even as he wondered about the title, he found himself in a motel room, with a battered Sam and Dean just entering. Both were leaning on each other, and both froze when they spotted Chuck and Castiel. "Uh..." Sam managed, his voice hoarse.

"The hell?" Dean finished for him.

Castiel stepped forward towards them, and Chuck headed to the table. He'd write his own adventures later. At the moment, though, he had an entire book to rewrite, and more story beyond that.

And that was the plan.

END


End file.
